


A Celebration of Futures

by octopus_fool



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Family, Gen, M/M, Pre-Slash, Religion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-16 22:51:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7287832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/octopus_fool/pseuds/octopus_fool
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The ceremony and feast that takes place on a dwarfling's first birthday ends up revealing more possible futures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Celebration of Futures

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunarium](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunarium/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy it!
> 
> Dialog in italics signifies it is in Khuzdul, dialog marked like /this/ is in Iglishmek.

Boom. Boom. Boom.

The slow beat of the drum surrounded Bifur like a heartbeat. The cavern around the silent dwarves was dark and the rock surrounded them like the bones of the mountain. The heartbeat accelerated and quietly, the first dwarves began to chant. Their voices rose with the drums, melting into the stone, joining the voices of their ancestors before them. 

Bifur looked at Mavi, her eyes wide with curiosity as her father held her. Unafraid as always, she waited as the dwarves of the little settlement sang to introduce her to her ancestors. 

A voice rose above the others. It was Thorin’s voice, and at the same time it was not his, but the voice of all the kings of the Khazad before him. Bifur had known Thorin was the king of the Longbeards the moment he had seen him years ago in his smith’s apron, but had never heard him sound like one. His voice filled every crevice of the chamber and in that moment, Bifur knew that coming to this new settlement in the Blue Mountains had been the right decision. He had never had many doubts, but the ancient words echoing in the new chamber as they had in the depths of Khazad-dum and old Belegost made his decision feel _right_. 

Only days ago, the sound of hammers hitting chisels had filled the chamber. Only two years ago, Bifur, Bofur, Bombur and Vida had called a small wagon home. Now they were part of this ancient ceremony, in a cavern that had been finished just in time for Mavi’s Feast of Futures, just in time for her first birthday. Just like the word of Thorin’s new settlement had come in time to give Bombur’s and Vida’s starting family a home. 

Thorin crashed the hammer onto the anvil before him and the chanting stopped, silence falling as the clang of the anvil faded into the darkness. Bifur smiled. The anvil was a Longbeard element, in the Broadbeam ceremony; the dwarves would merely have fallen silent as the song of their leader stopped. The Longbeards always preferred a slightly more theatrical version of the ceremonies. 

Bombur and Vida had decided to combine elements of both the Broadbeam and Longbeard ceremonies as a sign of Mavi’s combined heritage.

Thorin picked up a different hammer, rather smaller than the large ceremonial one. He held it out to Mavi.

“ _Perhaps you will be a smith, working in the forges like Mahal and some of the most brilliant craftsdwarves of your kin. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour._ ”

Mavi grasped at the hammer and drooled on it, before letting go of it. Thorin handed it to Vida. Giving gifts with the good wishes was Broadbeam tradition.

Vida stepped forward and put a thimble into the hands of her daughter.

“ _Perhaps you will follow into my footsteps and craft toys with a needle, or sturdy and beautiful clothes to sell on the markets, hopefully without pricking your fingers too often. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour._ ”

Bombur set a hat on Mavi’s head, beautifully crafted in dark greens and grays. The gifting of a hat by the father was another Broadbeam tradition.

“ _Perhaps you will seek the comforts of a home, or you will be content to call the warmth of a hat and the road under your boots home. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour._ ”

Bofur stepped forward and presented her with a small but functional woodcarving knife, its blade safely sheathed in leather.

“ _Perhaps you will decide to work with wood, carving toys beautiful enough to rival mine, or creating the most wondrous patterns in beams and pillars. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour._ ”

As Bofur handed the knife to Vida and turned around to go back to his spot, Bifur saw tears trickling down his face amidst his smile. Bifur smiled at him and stepped forward, showing his own gift to Mavi, a small screwdriver.

“ _Perhaps you will find you have a talent for making things move, tickling their mechanics to do your bidding. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour._ ”

Bifur handed his gift to Vida as Mavi cooed and rejoined Bofur in the audience.

Thorin struck the ceremonial anvil again, and the drums and chanting resumed. This time, the voices of the dwarves were joined by the various instruments the dwarves carried.

After several minutes, as if following an invisible signal, the dwarves began moving, Thorin, Vida and Bombur leading the way, Mavi still taking everything in with wide eyes and listening to the ancient music.

As the procession left the ceremonial chamber and slowly followed the upward winding tunnel, the melody began changing so gradually that it was barely noticeable at first.

By the time they reached the main hall in which a great feast had been set out, the tune bore little resemblance to the solemn melody it had been in the depths of the mountains. Fiddles and flutes soon had the first feet dancing across the floor and little Mavi was clapping her hands in delight.

Bombur and Vida took seats at the middle of one of the long tables and before long, friends and neighbours were gathering round to present their own gifts.

“Perhaps you will find joy in creating art. May every work you begin be to the liking of Mahal and have his favour,” the old dwarf living in a small house next to them said, handing a bundle of colourful pencils to Mavi. Mavi chose a red one that clashed horribly with her hair and began sucking on it.

The surrounding dwarves laughed. “She already seems to be enjoying them.”

“Repurposing them, more like,” another retorted.

“No, you just need to redefine your definition of art,” Vida retorted, earning another round of laughter. 

Bifur saw Bombur watching his wife and daughter as they stood in the center of attention. 

/Congratulations,/ Bifur signed. /You survived the first year./

Bombur grinned. /I suppose I did. I can’t believe it has already been a year./

/I’m just glad she is sleeping through the night,/ Bifur said with an eyeroll.

/Don’t get too fond of your sleep,/ Bombur replied. /You know there’s another one on the way, even though you know we don’t want to make it known quite yet. I don’t even want to imagine the fuss everyone will make. You know how they already are about Mavi as the first dwarfling being born to the settlement, and a girl at that./

/She’s enjoying it,/ Bifur pointed out.

/Thank Mahal for that. I’m just glad she takes after her mother in that respect. If I were in her place, I’d be screaming for them to leave me alone./

Bifur patted Bombur on the head. /You’ll survive the fuss they’ll make about the next one just fine./

Bombur groaned.

Just then, there was a little commotion around Vida and Mavi.

“What would she need a pint for?” Bofur asked, laughing as Kíli presented his gift.

“Brewing is a worthy craft,” Kíli retorted. “Besides, smithing was taken by Thorin and Duni already gave her a bow and arrow.”

“So do you know anything about brewing yourself?” Bofur asked in a teasing tone.

Kíli stuck his tongue out at him and lifted his own pint of ale. “I know that this is a might fine brew. Want to try it?” He held it out to Mavi.

Before Vida or Bombur could protest, Mavi had already taken a deep sip of it. Her eyes widened in surprise, then she screwed up her face at the bitter taste. With surprising accuracy, she spat the ale into Kíli’s face.

There was a moment of shocked silence, then everybody burst into laughter. Only Kíli stood there as if frozen, ale dripping from his face. 

He began looking around for something to dry himself with at exactly the same moment Bofur took off his outer cloak. 

“Here, you can use this.”

“Are you sure?” Kíli asked.

“Oh, of course, I’m really hot.” He turned beet red as soon as he realized what he had said.

Kíli stared at him for a moment. “Well, yes… I suppose that’s a good enough reason,” he finally spluttered before drying his face. “So, shall we see if there’s another ale to refill this and convince you of the importance of brewing?"

Bofur nodded.

Bombur looked at Bifur. /Did you know about this?/

Bifur shook his head. It looked like this feast really was about beginnings.


End file.
